Oceans Deep

Finding & Following Jesus in the Deep End of Life

Author: Meredith Carr (page 1 of 10)

Keeping A Light On In The Dark

I don’t know about you, but for me, end-of-school year brings with it a generous serving of mixed emotions, piled high and spilling over.

Crossing the finish line of another year evokes elation, exhaustion, nostalgia, sadness, and sweetness. When the endless obligations cease and the air quiets down once again, a time for reflection rushes in—whether welcomed or not.

For us, this year brimmed full with personal growth … and I know I don’t have to tell you that “personal growth” is a pretty, polished way of saying, we’ve been through the ringer and somehow we’re still standing and hopefully we learned a lot through the process.

Because isn’t that how it goes? I’ve yet to meet a person who experienced deep personal growth without the catalyst of pain moving things right along.

Oftentimes, it’s hard to even see the growth among the thick, prickly weeds.

I can look around and easily see the wreckage. The broken relationships, the dashed hopes, the things that turned out so differently than I’d expected or planned. These things block my path and cloud my mind, speaking the language of false truth into a fragile heart.

Sometimes, a school year can leave you feeling bruised.

Sometimes, a relationship drains your emotional reserves.

Sometimes, a season of hardship seems to drag on, far past its expiration date.

And sometimes, the light feels so very dim, as though the palpable darkness of fear and uncertainty threatens to swallow you up whole.

Perhaps you had a great year—your kids are thriving, your relationships are singing, and life is bee-bopping right along. This is an occasion to give praise and thanks to God!

But if it hasn’t been great—if you, like me, find yourself squinting to catch a glimpse of light in the murky world of “personal growth,” may I speak a word of comfort to your weary heart?

God is still working in the dark.

No matter how dim the light, no matter how challenging the season, our Father stands near, enfolding us in His trusted Hands.

In Psalm 139, David speaks to the Father’s nearness and the truth that no season or challenge or darkness can hide us from His eye:

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? … If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.”

Psalm 139:7, 11-12 (emphasis added)

What an incredible promise we can sink our teeth into. Just above the darkness pressing down thick and heavy, our Father sees it all in light. He sees all our pain and trial and growth as it truly is: carefully held in place by His sovereignty and ultimately woven together for our highest good (see Romans 8:28).

So hang on, dear reader. If you’re swimming in a season of darkness, hang on to the flickering light of His steadfast presence and love.

When you can’t see the way forward, trust that He sees, because all is light to Him. “God is light; in Him there is no darkness at all  (1 John 1:5 NIV).

Focus on the simplicity of taking the next right step, trusting Him to illuminate the way as you walk.

And remember, always, the truth that seasons change. Your darkness will not always be dark. But in the darkness, there are lessons waiting to unfold and treasures ripe for unearthing (see Isaiah 45:3).

So while you wait and while you mine the shadowy places, let the light of His steadfast love illuminate the path forward—one small, faithful step at a time.

Be Blessed,

Hey Mama–It’s Ok To Feel Angry Sometimes

Hello, dear readers!

Today’s post is for all my hard-working and exhausted mamas out there—all of you staring down the end-of-school and making your massive “To Do” lists (and checking them twice…or every hour on the hour!).

I confess, the stress of this time of year gets to me. I’ve found myself short on patience more days than I care to admit. I’ve found myself low on grace and high on bedtime apologies. I’ve done the forbidden “wishing time away” by dreaming of a calmer day.

And I’ve threatened to bolt to Mexico if slapped with one more request for money, toys, gifts, or party food. Who’s coming with me?

Lest you forget, let me gently remind you: this motherhood gig is hard.

The unseen, unacknowledged, unrelenting work you do day in and day out is a high and holy calling. Those sweet “Pampers” commercials can sometimes lull us into forgetting just how challenging this work really is! And just how many emotions—like anger—it can stir up within us.

If you’re anything like me, the fatigue and monotony tempt me to forget the gravity of this work. And oh, how our enemy loves to divert our eyes towards others in a destructive game of comparison, whispering lies about the greater value of other people’s work.

But do you know what? Our work as moms actually mimics the work of Jesus like few other professions! In Mark 10, we read an account of how Jesus’ disciples were vying for praise and honor, arguing over who would sit at His side in Heaven.

And as Jesus so beautifully does, He turned the disciple’s values on their head, teaching them a lesson they—and we!—needed to hear:

“[W]hoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave to all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

Mark 10:43-45 NIV (emphasis added)

Jesus’ entire mission on this earth was to lay down His life for others. He calls us to follow Him by doing likewise, and that’s exactly what you are doing—every time you fill a sippy cup, fix a meal, rock a baby, read a story, take your kiddo to rehearsal, help with homework, bandage a boo boo, or meet any of their million and one needs.

So hear me, sweet mamas—laying down our lives is no easy task! It brings us face-to-face with the selfish parts of our own hearts, as well as our inner toddler because—let’s just all admit—we each have one. She may not stomp her feet and throw herself on the ground, but she sure wants to.

Today, offer yourself lots and lots of grace. Maybe you’re in a tough season where that baseline frustration and anger just simmers under the surface, bringing with it a heaping side of shame. But instead of allowing that shame to compound your frustration, try staring it straight in the face—it’s trying to tell you something.

If you’re willing, your anger can be a tool that reveals where your heart is most needing Jesus. Perhaps you can steal away for a few minutes and ask yourself these questions:

Am I lacking margin in a particular area? The old airplane metaphor is a tired one, but it rings true: you must put on your oxygen mask before you can help others. As moms, we may not have the time we’d like to invest in self-care and the things that fill our tanks, but it’s so important to create a little breathing room.

It may appear loving to entirely neglect yourself on behalf of your children … until the wheels come falling off because you’re entirely exhausted. Look for pockets of time you can use to practice not only self-care, but also soul-care by spending time in the Word and allowing God’s truth to cover your heart.

Am I believing lies about myself or my role as a mom? We’re often led to believe that motherhood is “the thing” that will fulfill us … and when it doesn’t (because it can’t!), it’s no wonder we’re left feeling irritable and disappointed.

Similarly, when we buy the lie that our work is less valuable because it’s largely unseen, we’re left wallowing in an ugly futility that paves the way to anger and frustration. Our enemy is so tricky in the lies he presents as truth, it’s no wonder we’re admonished to be alert and aware of his schemes (see 1 Peter 5:8) and to take captive our every thought (see 2 Corinthians 10:5).

Am I letting my inner toddler run the show? The truth is, sometimes we’re just battling our own selfish desires. I think of how often I talk with my children about learning to cope when they don’t get their way—and yet this is a skill I too am learning to embody. Thankfully, Jesus is greater than our fragile, fallible hearts (see 1 John 3:20), and He alone can provide the strength we need to walk through motherhood with patience and grace.

So today, stop and take a deep, slow breath. Remember that you are human, and it’s okay to feel angry. Reject the enemy’s anchor of shame, and let that anger help lead you out of the “ick” and into a deeper, sweeter fellowship with Jesus.

With Blessings & Solidarity,

~Meredith

“You, Lord, are all I have, and you give me all I need; my future is in your hands. How wonderful are your gifts to me; how good they are!”

Psalm 16:5-6

Waiting to Arrive

Hello there, readers! It might be mid-February, but since this is my first post of the new year, let me wish you a Happy New Year anyway. How are those resolutions coming?

Clearly, my writing resolutions aren’t going according to plan.

In spite of the abysmal statistics surrounding resolutions, if you’re like me, you still love goal setting and planning. If you’re like a lot of other people, your eyes instinctively roll at the thought of a resolution.

But whatever camp in which you find yourself, I believe every one of us dreams of a better future—of arriving in a better spot this time next year. Perhaps you, like me, have been dreaming up resolutions long before you were ever impressed to make (and break!) them.

When I was a little girl, I dreamt of becoming a famous, wildly successful professional tennis player. With the likes of Andre Agassi and Jennifer Capriati plastered to my bedroom walls, I’d drift off to sleep with dreamy thoughts of winning, crushing my opponent, and—most importantly—obtaining a lasting sense of accomplishment and purpose.

Through the years, the “dream scenario” has changed—but whatever the dream, whatever the decade, the final outcome remained the same: me, living with a steadfast sense of peace, purpose, and what can only be described as a “soul ahhh.” I’m standing somewhere picturesque with a fictitious wind machine perfectly blowing my hair as my soul whispers, I have arrived.

This sounds silly, I know, but perhaps you can relate?

Maybe you thought if you just scored that perfect job, you’d feel at peace. Or if you could just get married, then your world would settle. Or if you could just fit into those “size whatever” jeans, then your soul could be at ease. At that point, the wind machine would only be a bonus.

In most recent years, I confess this is precisely how I thought about motherhood. I listened, dreamy-eyed, to the mythical description of a “love like no other,” and the deep sense of purpose and belonging I heard mothers speak of, and I couldn’t help but think now that I am a mother, I have arrived.

Well, in the words of Dwight Schrute, false.

Motherhood is indeed a high and holy calling. And it is indeed full of a love like no other. But it is not the thing that ultimately has or will or can satisfy my hungry, longing soul.

We can resolve and plan to our heart’s delight, but there is no earthly person, place, or thing that will ultimately satisfy our resolution-hungry souls.

There is no mythical place in which we can “arrive” and finally find the peace and purpose for which we’re longing.

Perhaps on the surface, this sounds disappointing; and yet, it’s excellent news for each of us, because the truth is, we don’t have to wait to arrive, because we have already arrived!

Our Creator God knew from the start there existed no earthly achievement big enough to fill the ache in our hearts, so He sent us Jesus. Because of what Christ has done for us, we don’t have to wait to experience a “soul ahhh.” Because of Jesus, we are promised abundant, full life right now (see John 10:10).

Today.

You don’t have to wait until you’ve lost 15 pounds, found the perfect job, married the perfect partner, had the perfect children, or built the perfect home.

In Christ, we have everything we need right now:

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things, at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work (2 Corinthians 9:8 NIV, emphasis added).

What an incredible promise. How often do we think we can “abound in every good work” only once certain external goals have been achieved? Or how often do we delay the good work we could be doing now in the hopes of first becoming some utopian version of ourselves?

You and I can begin living out the promise of 2 Corinthians 9:8 today.

You don’t have to abandon that resolution or those goals you’ve set—but you don’t have to wait until they are fulfilled before living a life of abundance, peace, and purpose.

So dear one, what are you waiting for? This year, let your resolution-driven soul be the thing that drives you closer to your Heavenly Father and the rich, abundant life available in Him.

Celebrating When Your Heart is Heavy

Merry-Almost-Christmas, dear readers!

I say this every year, but I honestly don’t know how we’ve flipped through yet another calendar year … time flies when you’re having fun (and even when you’re not!).

I’m guessing you, like me, love this season of Advent. The parties, the gatherings, the giving of gifts, the creating of “magic” for our kiddos. Taking a break from the routines of school and work. Spending extra time with friends and family.

It is, as the song goes, “the most wonderful time of the year.”

Except, what about when it isn’t?

In this season, we’re encouraged to reflect back on the year … but sometimes those reflections cause us to wince in painful remembrance.

In this season, we’re told to be filled with joy … but sometimes the heavy things we’re carrying make joy feel unreachable.

Broken friendships. Broken marriages. Loved ones suffering from illness.

Financial pressures highlighted by this season of giving and receiving, adding even more pressure to bulging credit cards and empty bank accounts.

A struggling child. A prodigal child. A heart longing for a child.

Any number of things threaten to weigh us down and burden our hearts. The season of joy can make the heaviness feel that much heavier.

But dear reader, you want to hear the really good news? If your heart is heavy, you’re a living, breathing example of the true reason for the season.

Christmas isn’t simply about traditions and parties and gift giving. It’s about Jesus coming to walk in our shoes, coming to lift our heaviness right onto His own shoulders, coming to give us a hope that cannot be shaken.

It’s about the first flickering of the One true light breaking through the thick, sticky darkness of life on this earth:

In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:4-5 ESV)

We don’t often—if ever—discuss darkness during the Christmas season (it doesn’t exactly fit with the Hallmark narrative!). But God wasn’t afraid of our darkness and pain, and He willingly stepped into it in order to show us the way out. This truth offers a far greater hope and joy than our traditions ever could!

Don’t get me wrong, traditions are great, and they absolutely have a special place in this season. So decorate your home to your heart’s delight. Bake and ice a dozen different types of Christmas cookies (I’ll gladly try them out for you!). Make that elf on the shelf do Cirque de Soleil, if that’s your jam.

Just remember, this season is about saving. It’s about grace. It’s about Jesus entering into our pain in the most humble and breathtaking of ways. It’s about the healing you and I need, a healing that cannot be found in Christmas music and twinkling lights.

Our pain is a holy, sacred reminder of our great need for Jesus, for our Savior.

So if your heart is heavy this holiday, you are not alone. You have a Savior who longs to walk with you and carry that heaviness for you.

Indeed, if your heart is heavy, you are primed to experience the most authentic and full joy this season can bring. And it is my fervent prayer that you and I will come to know and walk in that joy in the weeks ahead.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the governments shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 ESV)

 

Blessings,

 

 

Breaking Up With the Ugly Inside You

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10 (NIV)

The day started out as any other: coffee, quiet time, crafting the day’s “To Do” list.

Pick up milk.

Reply to that e-mail.

Figure out what the heck is wrong with me.

I chuckled as I added the last item, but unfortunately it was true. A harried week and over-scheduled calendar left me exhausted on multiple fronts. Several conflicts with friends and family members mixed with the exhaustion to create a dark concoction of frustration and anger. I found myself irritated at any and all people.

When even my two-year-old was getting on my nerves, a harsh reality sunk in: my inner ugly was running the show, and we needed to break up.

Perhaps you can relate. Daily, we’re exposed to ugliness. It takes the form of violent crimes, news stories about bullying in school, and a seemingly endless supply of hateful rhetoric online. But what about when the ugliness isn’t inside a television or computer screen, but inside our own hearts?

Confronting our own hardened, selfish hearts is about as much fun as a root canal. But when our souls begin disintegrating faster than a stick of cotton candy in a rain storm, and we’re pointing exasperated fingers at everyone but ourselves, that’s our clue: we are the ones with the problem.

If we’re willing, the disease in our own hearts can propel us closer to the heart of our Heavenly Father—a Father who loves and gave His life for all people, even the ones rubbing us the wrong way.

So how can we break up with our inner ugly? A few simple yet powerful steps can set us in the right direction:

Click Restart. When our phone or computer crashes, we know it’s in need of a “restart.” The same is true of our hearts, and our Heavenly Father can give us the fresh start we need. As King David did, so we can pray: Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me (Psalm 51:10 NIV). We can take our ugly to the Father and allow Him to refresh and renew our hearts.

Reach Out. When our inner ugly rears its, well, ugly head, we’re often in need of a perspective change. Reaching out to a safe, trusted friend or mentor who will speak truth into your life can make all the difference in setting you back on the path of life. In this, we can spur one another on toward love and good deeds (Hebrews 10:24 NIV).

Give Thanks. Few things send ugliness running for the hills faster than a heart of gratitude. Ugly and thankful simply don’t coexist. Choose gratitude, even if it’s white-knuckled and by the skin of your teeth.

Sweet reader, I pray that we would find courage to break up with the inner ugly. Refuse to give the enemy a foothold in your heart’s delicate soil.

And may we return to our “To Do” lists with nothing but a heart full of joy and love.

Blessings,

Hide & Seek

Earlier this spring, I had the chance to hear Dr. Temple Grandin speak at the University of Georgia. Granted, she spoke to the veterinary school about animal behavior. But, as the mama to a son with Autism, I couldn’t resist an opportunity to see this incredible woman in person.

I listened, strangely captivated, as Dr. Grandin discussed everything from cattle behavior to how fear manifests itself in animals.

She spoke at length about sheep, a topic that piqued my interest, given all the parallels the scripture draws between us and this adorable (yet somewhat intellectually challenged!) breed:

But we your people, the sheep of your pasture, will give thanks to you forever (Psalm 79:13a ESV).

 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way (Isaiah 53:6a ESV).

 For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls (1 Peter 2:25 ESV).

One particular fact Dr. Grandin presented simply jumped out at me, and it’s been rattling around in my mind ever since:

Sheep hide the fact that they are in pain.

So much so, that if you need to know exactly where or how a sheep is injured, you have to stealthily catch it on hidden video!

This statement struck me between the eyes, as it seemed like yet another powerful example of how we humans mimic sheep. Because truthfully, how often do we talk honestly about our pain? We, like sheep, are masters of disguise, going to great lengths to hide our pain.

We hide behind a busy life or career.

We hide behind nice clothes and a forced smile.

We hide behind the paper-thin facade of an “I’ve got it all together” life.

And in our age of technology, we’ve become especially adept at hiding our pain behind shiny, filtered photos of “perfect moments.” Nevermind the fact that oftentimes, those moments are equally preceded and followed by less-than-shiny real life moments.

We hide our pain in a feeble attempt at self-preservation … yet the unfortunate truth is, pain that is hidden has no means for a healthy resolution. We limp along, working hard to cover and conceal.

What’s worse, pain in the hands of our enemy can be used to take us out. We put ourselves at great risk for becoming that unfortunate sheep at the back of the pack, moments away from being overtaken by the hungry predator.

This is a disconcerting reality. And yet, hope abounds—because pain, in the hands of our ever-redeeming God, can become a weapon against our enemy.

Dear reader, Jesus came so that you and I might be free (see Galatians 5:1).

Free from the need to hide our pain.

Free from the need to cover and cake over our scars with layers of lies.

Free from the empty life of pretending everything is fine all the time. I may not know you personally, but I know it’s not. Because life in this broken world is messy, difficult, and just plain distressing at times. We are, none of us, immune from this reality.

The honest sharing of our pain paves the way for us to find healing. And our decision to walk in authenticity can also pave the way for others to do likewise. What’s more, this opening up of our broken places gives glory to our Father—our Good Shepherd—as we reflect back all the ways His saving grace is touching and restoring our wounded hearts.

Not everyone is called to blog or write or speak publicly about his or her pain, but each one of us needs a safe person or small community with whom we can honestly be open about the state of our hearts.

Sweet reader, is there something you’re hiding today? From one needy soul to another, may I encourage you to seek out that safe place, and be willing to take the risk of speaking honestly about your pain.

The loving Shepherd and Overseer of your soul longs to draw you into an authentic, whole, abundant life, one full of fellowship with Him and with others.

You and I were never meant to carry our burdens alone. You and I were never meant to hide.

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2 ESV).

Today, I pray that you and I alike would find the courage to move toward healing by refusing to hide any longer. Freedom awaits, dear one.

Blessings,

 

For Those With a Heavy Heart This Mother’s Day

In case your social media feed didn’t give it away or the dozens of men pouring over cards last minute at Target didn’t clue you in, it’s Mother’s Day.

I’m generally a sucker for most holidays, because who doesn’t like to celebrate life and all its various milestones and relationships? Plus, I have the best mother on the planet (sorry everyone else!), so it’s my joy to celebrate the incredible woman and rock she is to our family.

And even though this is my fifth Mother’s Day as a mother myself, I still look around at the chaos and the cribs and the toys and these three precious kiddos and think wow, I can’t believe they are mine!

But for many, this holiday brings a deep sadness. I think of our neighbors, who just lost their young daughter-in-law to cancer and now face the prospect of helping their son and 4-year-old grandchild navigate new, difficult waters in the absence of “mama.”

I think of those who have lost their moms and struggle deeply with the gaping hole created by such a loss.

Today especially, I think of a dear friend who longs to be celebrated on this day with a baby in belly or arms. Today, my heart is with all of you whose hearts are heavy with the desire of motherhood.

For years, this holiday caused a deep ache in my own heart, as I longed and waited to wear the title of “mother” and celebrate this day with my own child. And while God has answered that longing of my heart—and I’m incredibly grateful and thankful—becoming a mother has not been “the answer” to the ultimate longing of my heart. Because the truth?

My heart still aches. It aches in a different way now, but it does nonetheless.

It aches with the weight of a special needs child and the burden of navigating a path for him in this world that is oftentimes cruel to those who are different.

It aches with the burden of raising strong, confident daughters in the midst of our sex-obsessed, porn-saturated culture that screams at them daily, you are only as good as your body, your face, your beauty.

It aches with the sheer magnitude of what it means to raise little children to be strong, self-sufficient, whole, and wholesome members of this world.

I share all of this simply to say, if your heart is aching on this Mother’s Day, I understand. And you are so not alone.

In these manufactured holidays, it’s all too easy to fall into your sadness and think if only I was a mother! Then I would be:

 Happy

Peaceful

Fulfilled

Whole

But this is simply not true—it’s a crafty lie that feels impossibly true, but it’s a lie intended to keep your head down and your heart defeated.

The truth for you, and for me, and for every one of us, is that nothing on this earth can fully satisfy the deepest longing of our desperately longing hearts.

I know, and I mean, I know—that when your arms are empty, clinging to the truth that Jesus is enough seems a hard, outrageous choice. So today, I simply whisper a prayer over your heavy heart, and I ask God to make His Word come alive in you:

For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul He fills with good things (Psalm 107:9 NIV, emphasis added).

Good things.

May you see them, experience them, press on in relentless faith, believing that they are up ahead and waiting for you.

And whatever the boat in which you find yourself this Mother’s Day, may the peace of God, which passes all understanding, guard your heart and soul and mind, dear reader.

Blessings,

Don’t Wallow in the Why

It’s amazing how quickly a year can go by, isn’t it? Days tend to drag by at the speed of thick molasses pouring out on a cold day, yet somehow we turn around and twelve months have evaporated.

This month marks one year since we received Isaiah’s autism diagnosis.

An entire year since falling into an emotional black hole. An entire year since being handed a task I never desired and for which I feel inadequate.

An entire year since coming face-to-face with the God I’ve loved and served my whole life and whispering the dangerous but inevitable question, why?

Why.

It’s one of the most futile questions along our faith journey, for could we ever understand the mind of God? (see Romans 11:34)

Yet we simply cannot help ourselves.

Even if we mustered the ability to refrain from uttering the word, the raw emotion bubbling in the bones of those 3 letters would find a way to come screaming out of our pores. The guttural cry of why simply cannot be ignored.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve cried out to God over this past year, whether in words or in tears or both, grappling with why this path has been given to us.

But in my pain, I am encouraged that God understands this need to ask why. He made us, and He lovingly remembers that we are but dust (see Psalm 103:14).

And He is patient beyond understanding. From Job to Moses to David to Paul—all these spiritual giants of the faith—we see this crying out from the soul, this pouring out of the pain of why?

And as we approach Easter, may we not forget that even Jesus—our Savior, God’s own Son—cried out on the cross, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? (Matthew 27:46 NIV).

Truthfully, I believe our Father welcomes this question, because it has the power to draw us close to His heart. Rather than stoically, silently trying to white-knuckle our way through pain and trials, asking why brings us face-to-face with the choice we must make:

When we don’t understand His plan, will we be willing to trust His heart? This heart that loves us so much, He wouldn’t even spare His own Son in order to save and redeem us (see Romans 8:32).

When faced with this choice a year ago, my answer wasn’t pretty and polished and blog-appropriate. I have battled, wrestled with my Heavenly Father through this simple, piercing choice.

Today, my heart is in a far better place than it was 365 days ago. There is still so much to be learned, so many battles to fight, and so much faith to develop and deepen.

But through the hills and valleys, God is sharpening my faith and teaching me an important lesson:

Ask why—but don’t wallow in it.

Ask why—and then take the next step.

That’s what this entire last year has been, a series of small, little steps taken as God opened the doors. Walking forward in His light, even when it shined just enough to see the next step. Putting faith into action by trusting Him to provide at the next point, and the next, and the next …

This is the way of the wilderness—trusting Him in each Red Sea obstacle, waterless desert, and soul-hunger pang. Being willing to pursue the Provider over the provision.

(and lest anyone make the mistake of thinking this is easy, may we never forget the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 long year!).

So ask why, dear reader—go ahead and ask, scream, cry, shout. Lay it out before Him. Ask why, then take the next step.

Don’t wallow in the why.

What about you? Perhaps you too find yourself facing something heavy, some large, looming hurdle. What’s the next step God is gently asking you to take?

Maybe it’s finally calling that counselor.

Maybe it’s scheduling that difficult meeting with your boss.

Maybe it’s finding a new school.

Maybe it’s letting go of that thing you’ve been desperately trying to control.

Whatever you’re facing, may I encourage you to go before Jesus and ask Him to make that next step clear?

And whatever the answer, dear one, I pray that you and I will have the courage to faithfully, humbly, take that step with confidence and joy, knowing He will make the way, step by step, desert sand and all shuffling beneath our weary feet.

Blessings,

Going Under

As a mom, a big part of my job is to teach my children. All you fellow parents know that throughout the day, we’re teaching our children morals, manners, numbers, letters, etc. (or attempting to, that is). And my 3-year-old is smack in the middle of the “why, mommy??” phase, so I’m doing a lot more teaching and explaining than I’d like these days!

But even so, I’m continually amazed at how much God has to teach me through their sweet, innocent lives. Scripture talks about how much Jesus loves little children, and how our faith should be like that of a child (see Matthew 18:3), because He knows the power they have to illustrate scriptural principles.

Recently, I had one such experience. While washing dishes one evening, I listened as my son expressed to his father an intense fear about taking off his floaties at the pool (there’s an indoor pool in town we’ve been using with the big kids as a way to work on swim skills during the winter. It’s also a great way to burn through those dicey pre-bedtime hours!).

While my daughter was happy to shed her floaties and swim “like a big kid,” my sweet, cautious boy has been reticent to follow suit. After several “I just don’t want to!” responses, Aaron was able to coax the real fear out of him:

I’m afraid of sinking to the bottom, he said in a sweet, small voice.

With a smile, Aaron asked him, do you really think I would let you sink?

Again, that sweet, small voice held intense resolve—yes.

With a confident, big bear hug, Aaron scooped him up and reassured him, I would never, ever let you sink!

I laughed as I dried worn pots and pans, thinking how absurd it was for my child to think we would ever let him get even close to sinking … but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, my own Heavenly Father gently whispered, but you relate to me in the same way, child. Do you really think I would ever, could ever, let you sink?

Comfort and conviction mingled in the midst of these thoughts, because truthfully, I live far too much of my life acting as if He will let me sink. Too often, I choose fear over trust … or worry over peace … or impatience over patient confidence that God will provide an answer to whatever situation has me wringing my hands that day.

Can you relate? We say with our mouths the truth of God’s Word and His promises to us … and yet, all too often our actions speak—shout, even—the exact opposite.

Our Creator God knows us intimately and understands our propensity to feel as though we’re sinking under the weight of our trials during stormy seasons. One of my favorite scriptures describing His promise to keep us anchored above the waves comes from Isaiah:

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you (Isaiah 43:2).

In the New Testament, we see Jesus calm the storm that His disciples feared would overtake them (see Matthew 8:23-27). And we read with awe the story of Peter walking on water with Jesus—who reached out and took hold of Peter when fear sent him sinking (see Matthew 14:22-33).

Over and over, we see God speak directly to this fear in us…this fear that our circumstances and our trials will sink us straight to the bottom of the deep end. That our pain, like a mammoth wave, will overtake us.

He meets that fear with the calm assurance of His never-ceasing presence and sustaining, steadfast love. Indeed, it is a hope we have as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure (Hebrews 6:19).

Is there some pain, some trial, some burden in your life, and it’s threatening to overwhelm and sink you under its weary weight? Are you afraid of going under? Perhaps the enemy is whispering in your ear the smooth lie that you can’t survive this; this is going to sink you.

Dear reader, may I encourage you—as I encourage myself—to listen intently to the voice of your Father. Mediate on and absorb the words of truth, these words that deliver life-sustaining oxygen to drowning lungs:

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made Heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep (Psalm 121:1-4 ESV).

May we be willing to trust our Father in a deeper way this week. May we find ourselves inching out over the water, anchored in a growing faith. And may the enemy’s deceitful voice be the only thing we find drowning!

Blessings,

 

The Ultimate “Love Like No Other”

Hello dear readers, and Merry-Almost-Christmas! I hope this week finds you enjoying the excitement of this season (and not feeling too overwhelmed that we’re mere days away now!).

In the midst of Advent, I wanted to share an article I wrote earlier this year and recently published in the Inspire Love Anthology. I don’t know about you, but in the middle of buying and wrapping presents, planning meals, and rushing from one function to the other, I certainly need a reminder of what Christmas is really about. I hope this reminder of God’s enduring love for us blesses you and brings hope to your heart today!


The Ultimate “Love Like No Other”

When I first found out I was going to be a mom, the joy nearly overwhelmed my happy heart. After several years of waiting, it was finally my turn to experience the “love like no other” my friends and Hallmark had told me about for so long.

My clueless mind imagined that once this baby arrived, I would float on “Cloud 9” for the rest of my life, buoyed by the smell of sweet baby skin, adorable clothes, and innumerable kisses. And when my firstborn arrived, all cries and perfect baby preciousness, I did indeed experience an unspeakable love. The smell of his sweet baby skin robbed me of breath, and I marveled at how it took mere seconds to fall madly in love with this brand new human being.

The love of a mother for her child is indeed a beautiful, mysterious thing … and yet, as time would teach me, there exists another side to this “love like no other”—a side that doesn’t exactly have a place among the shiny, tingly Hallmark cards … because along with the glorious ups of motherhood come the painful lows of motherhood, the hard love of mothering.

At the tender age of 3, and after many months of testing and wondering (with a heaping side of denial), this beloved firstborn of mine received a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder, or ASD. Those three little letters shook me to the core and sent me hurtling down the path of hard love. I found myself grieving what I thought motherhood would be and the child I thought my son would be. Instead, I began the journey of falling in love with the child God created him to be.

In the sad, blurry days following my son’s diagnosis, I would toss and turn late into the night, a million and one questions pinging across my tired brain.

God, why would You choose me to mother a child with ASD? I’m not cut out for it! How will I know what to even do for him?? I’m not like these bulldog-persistent-warrior moms I see out there! I’m quiet and reserved and don’t even know where to begin. I don’t want to fail him!

It’s easy for us moms to fall down the rabbit hole of doubting ourselves and wondering if we’re doing everything we should and could be doing for our children … and I’ve found this to be especially true in moms of kids with special needs.

Yes, these circumstances overwhelmed my heart with doubt and fear … but a funny thing happened in those sad and blurry days. A deep and primal love for my son began overwhelming my heart, more than the fear and doubt. I experienced a true love like no other, the kind that kicks in amidst the lowest of lows and compels you to go to the ends of the earth for your child. I found myself reading, researching, calling various resources, and reaching out to people—me, a classic introvert!

While we are just at the beginning of our son’s journey, I’m beginning to see that all these amazing moms of special needs kids aren’t simply born—they’re made, through the beautiful and painful process of walking a different road of motherhood. It’s the road of fashioning beauty from ashes. It’s the road of attending therapies and appointments more than play dates and parties. It’s being compelled by a love so strong, you couldn’t stop it even if you tried.

This hard love means continuing on another day, even when you’re so tired it feels like you might collapse. It means putting one foot in front of the other, even though you’d rather lock yourself in the bathroom and cry. It’s giving more of yourself, even after it seems as though there’s nothing left to give.

And while many days I wish for all the world this wasn’t our path, I want my son to know the love I have for him; I want him to know that, no matter how hard the road ahead, no matter what challenges and heartaches he will face, we will face them together. I will always walk by his side. As long as I have breath in my body, he can count on my steadfast love for him.

Because the truth is, love of any kind isn’t always easy—and it oftentimes looks quite different than we thought it would. Children push you to the brink; wedding day joy fades with the years of struggles and trials; friendships change with the passing of seasons. Others are not always easy to love, just as we are not always easy to love.

Everyone wants an enduring, “love like no other.” Incredibly, our Heavenly Father answers our desire with His steadfast love for us. Though we test and try and push and doubt Him at times, His unwavering love for us never falters. Though we give Him reason to lock Himself away from us, He never will and never could—even in the lowest of lows.

On the cross, He gave us all of Himself in the greatest act of love this world has ever seen. Indeed, though our love as mothers and fathers for our children is fierce, it is but a shadow of the love the Father has for us. Isaiah 49:15 says:

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!

What a promise! And it’s a promise we can count on, one in which we can place our hope. Just as I long for my son to be certain of my love for him, so our Heavenly Father longs for us to know that we know that we know that He loves us.

Are you living in the reality of God’s unconditional, steadfast love for you today? What would it look like for you to absorb this truth and sink into the ultimate love like no other?

Rest assured, we will have difficult seasons, those unsuitable for a warm and fuzzy Hallmark card—but we will always have the assurance that God is working all things together for those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose (see Romans 8:28). And truth be told, that is all the warm and fuzzy we will ever need.

Blessings,

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